Befriending the Ice Man
by shnuffeluv
Summary: Sherlock has gone off to destroy Moriarty's web, leaving Molly back home. But keeping a secret isn't something she's particularly used to. Luckily, she has Sherlock's older brother to share this burden with. And despite Sherlock's warnings, Molly slowly falls more for this man who only looks like he has a frozen heart. Mollcroft Based on a prompt from Bellarsam Chrisjulittle
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Ok, another request which turned into a multi-chapter, this time from Bellarsam Chrisjulittle, who PMed me saying,**

Hello! I have a prompt for you, if you'd like it: During Sherlock's two years away, Molly and Mycroft become close friends since they share this secret. Mycroft falls in love with her, and when Sherlock returns, he distances himself from Molly (becomes the Ice Man again). He is sure she could never return his feelings because he thinks she loves Sherlock, especially now that he's back - he thinks he was just a substitute. But his distance makes Molly realize she is in love with him (perhaps with some help from Anthea, or even Sherlock), so she goes to him and sweet Mollcroft will ensue!

**And, to be honest, I was considering doing something like this already, and this helps me plan it out a little more so I can dig it. Let's do this!**

It was at the funeral when Molly saw him. He was standing in the back of the small group, like an unwanted specter of something sacred. In a way, he was. John was standing bravely in the small crowd, trying not to cry and failing. Mrs. Hudson was sobbing. Lestrade looked empty on the inside, and maybe a little scared, as if worried what would happen now that Sherlock Holmes was dead. Molly took this all in and felt like she was going to burst when he caught her eye. He shook his head. _Remember, you can't tell anyone._

Molly looked forward again quickly. She wasn't going to say anything. She couldn't, she knew what would happen if she did, but that didn't make it any easier. The service went by, and everyone paid their respects to Sherlock's empty grave. Eventually it was only her and him left. He walked up slowly until he was next to her right in front of the casket. "Even though I know it's not real, it still hurts, in a way, doesn't it?" he asked, one hand reaching out to feel the cool metal, as if he could assure himself it was empty just by touching it.

Molly looked over to Mycroft. "Yeah…even though Sherlock is safe on his flight to…wherever, it's hard to remind myself he's not dead."

Mycroft smiled sadly. "I almost had to do this once before. Sherlock OD'd and the doctors weren't sure he'd pull through. They were about to call our parents, tell them to come and be ready to say their good-byes when he opened his eyes and screamed at them to stop." Mycroft chuckled. "The doctor nearly had a heart attack."

Molly laughed. "I bet he did. There have been times where my bodies have opened their eyes even when I was nowhere near any nerves that would cause that to happen. The first few times I screamed. Now I just say 'peek-a-boo'!" she blushed at the last part. "That was more morbid than it was supposed to be…"

Mycroft looked over at her. "We're talking over my brother's grave. Honestly, I'd find it hard to _not _sound morbid at the moment."

Molly blushed. She probably sounded like the stupidest person in the world right now. "Right, sorry. I just keep tripping over myself when I talk. I should probably stop, so why do I just keep going on? You probably want me to just stop so you can leave and I'm sorry I'm really trying to I just can't find my off switch now…"

Mycroft held up a hand and Molly shut up, biting her lip as she did so. He scrutinized her and Molly resisted the urge to shift under the stare. It was nothing new to her-Sherlock did it all the time-but somehow this was a little different. Maybe it was because of the way Mycroft had more elegance than his brother lent him to looking sterner. Maybe it was because of Sherlock's warnings to Molly to stay away from Mycroft whenever possible. Maybe it was because she heard him threatening to put someone on a tax audit list once and didn't want to know what he might do to her if he thought she might talk. Whatever the reason, the longer he stared at her, the more she felt uncomfortable. That is, until he started to tilt forward and started like he just woke up suddenly from lightly sleeping. "Apologies," he said, "I haven't had much sleep these last few nights, and sometimes if I get lost in thought enough I might find myself waking up from wherever I was standing before planning."

Molly smiled despite her discomfort. "It's fine. There have been times where I've woken up on a slab in the morgue where I was resting for a minute and scared the person who walked in waking me up."

Mycroft gave her a-smirk wasn't the right word, but smile wasn't either-and turned away from Sherlock's grave. "Might I give you a ride back to your house?"

Molly internally started as she realized just where they were. "Oh, no, sorry. I only got the morning off to come to the service. I really need to get back to work."

"To work, then," Mycroft offered. "I'd like to hear more of your incidents in the morgue before I have to struggle through a few more painful meetings today."

Alarm bells were ringing in Molly's head, after all, she barely knew Mycroft, and before, Sherlock was always with her when she saw him so he could intervene if he wanted to try anything on her. But she doubted she'd catch a cab fast enough to make it back to work on time, so she shrugged. "Okay."

Mycroft smirked this time, sweeping an arm towards the exit, saying, "After you."

Molly gave him a look but started walking anyway. "So…exactly what about my 'incidents in the morgue' make meetings more bearable?"

Mycroft shrugged, and Molly had the insane urge to laugh at the action that looked so out of place on him. "Does there need to be a concrete reason? I understand a lot of people listen to songs or own furniture simply because it 'felt right' to them. I feel that if you can cheer up a graveyard, you could cheer up a meeting. Not that there's much of a difference."

Molly snickered. "Sherlock never said you were funny."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows for a fraction of a second before he masked his surprise, but Molly caught it. "He…talks about me? Talked, I suppose I should say. I doubt he'll be calling soon."

Molly looked over at him. "Are you kidding? When he had nothing else on, he'd come to me, and you would be close to the top on the list of things he'd talk about. Admittedly, a lot of it was rants or warnings to me, but I can pick apart what Sherlock is saying after knowing him for a few years, and I know enough to see what he thinks about you."

"And that would be…?"

Molly held a finger to her lips and giggled like a schoolgirl. "It's a secret," she laughed.

Mycroft arched a single eyebrow as they left the cemetery. Molly continued to laugh and just shook her head. "Sorry, you won't get that information out of me."

Mycroft sighed as a car pulled up, and opened the door for Molly. She walked passed him, trying her best not to bump into him and slid to the other side of the car. Mycroft got in after her and looked over. "So. What does Sherlock think of me?"

Molly glanced around conspiratorially. "You promise not to tell anyone?"

Mycroft made a cross motion over his heart.

Molly leaned forward and said barely above a whisper, "He thinks…that you…are…"

Mycroft nodded, prompting her to continue.

"…His older brother," Molly finished with a smile that barely concealed more giggles.

Mycroft made a face at her, which caused all the giggles Molly was holding in to be let loose. Mycroft jumped at the sound, only causing Molly to laugh more. She continued to laugh until they reached the hospital, at which point she quieted, because she figured laughing after she was at a funeral would turn some heads. She opened the car door and smiled at Mycroft. "Thanks for the ride," she said as she closed the door.

She walked into Bart's and got ready for an afternoon of work, feeling for some reason like she had just passed a test she wasn't aware she was taking at the time. But the more she thought about it, the more it seemed likely. Mycroft needed to know she could keep a secret under stress, getting something trivial out of her could be a good test of her character. Good thing Sherlock's death wasn't the only secret she'd ever promised to keep.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Second chapter, yay! I hope this is going to go the way I tell it to, I'm just getting used to ordering my stories around and I'm not sure how I feel about it yet. I usually just let them go wherever they want but I need to keep some of them short. But enough about that, we have a story to read!**

Mycroft watched Molly leave the car with a mix of relief and confusion. Confusion being particularly tied into the relief. After all, he was, to coin Sherlock's term, the British Government. Why should he be relieved that one mousy pathologist had left him alone in his car? The driver started to pull away from the curb, but Mycroft continued to stare out to the doors of St. Bart's long after Molly had passed through. It was only when the car turned and Mycroft lost sight of the building that he turned to face forward again and noticed Molly had left her purse in his car. He reached out for it, then halted. He was pretty sure going through a lady's purse while she wasn't around it was considered "a very bad thing indeed" by his mother. Nevertheless, he did need a way of contacting Molly, and going through her purse seeing if there was an emergency number one could call if it was misplaced seemed better than just admitting he had access to every phone in England. Immediately on the inside he found a tag that read _Property of Molly Hooper. If found please call St. Bart's (where I will more likely than not be at work) and ask for me =) _It had a little kitten in the corner and Mycroft found himself smiling at the childishly endearing style this woman named Molly Hooper had. Mycroft pulled out his phone and dialed the number for St. Bart's, asking for Molly. The secretary sounded confused at first, then sounded like she was smirking on the other end, probably figuring he was a date of Molly's. He was on hold for only a minute before Molly came on the other end. "Hello, Molly Hooper speaking."

"Dr. Hooper."

"Oh, hello Mr. Holmes. How can I help you?"

"Well, it appears you left your purse in my car. I thought it would be good for you to know."

There was a pause on the other end, probably Molly looking around for her purse and realizing he was right. "Oh! I'm so sorry!"

"No need to apologize. Everyone misplaces personal effects every once in a while. I merely wanted to ensure you had it as soon as possible."

"O-of course. Thank you for telling me, I left my house keys and phone in there, so there's not much I could do come the end of my shift without it."

"Well, why don't I send someone to pick you up at the end of your shift, I know a private place where we could talk. And by then I should think a certain friend of ours will have landed from his plane ride and we could phone him."

"That sounds nice. Though we don't have to call Sherlock, I have faith that he won't do anything _too _stupid," Molly laughed. "Is 5 okay?"

"5 is fine. I'll see you then."

Mycroft hung up and banged his head against the back of his seat. What was he thinking? Why was his stomach doing flips thinking about talking with Molly at the Diogenes? It was purely business, a simple returning of a lost item. No reason to be nervous at all.

…So why was he?

* * *

><p>Mycroft was sitting in his private room at the Diogenes tapping on his desk impatiently, Molly's purse in front of him. Molly wasn't running late, he just wished this meeting would be over. He had decided Molly was a wild card, hard to read and even harder to control. And if there was one thing Mycroft required, it was control. Which was the exact opposite word he'd use to describe Molly as she burst into his room, and bending over panting from the evident run in she had taken. When she stood up she was red in the face, and not from the run. It looked like she just realized where she was and how out of place her behavior was. "S-sorry…I was just eager to get…my purse…back…"<p>

Mycroft smirked. "No need for apologies. I understand." He gestured to the chair sitting across from his desk. "Please, sit."

Molly obediently walked up and sat down. _Interesting. She'll do as she's told when embarrassed, but when and how she gets embarrassed follows no obvious pattern…how to control this situation…?_

Mycroft cleared his throat and pushed the purse closer to the edge of his desk. Molly took it tentatively. "Thank you," she muttered.

Mycroft waved away the thanks, choosing instead to focus on what he'd been thinking about for the entire afternoon. "Dr. Hooper, I tried to get you to tell me a secret today. Namely, what you thought about how Sherlock considered me. Trying every tactic, I got nothing from you, yet you seem like one who would be the easiest to get information from in a group. Why is that?"

Molly fiddled with her purse. "I just…don't want to betray my friends. I value their trust above all else, and when I lose that, I lose them. That's my motivation to keep my mouth shut."

Mycroft blinked, confused. "I wish I could understand what you mean by that, but I'm afraid I'm at a loss."

Molly looked up at him with confusion and sympathy written across her face. "Don't you have any friends?"

Mycroft made a sour face. "No. At least not the kind of friends you know of. I have people who agree with me and have my back in a debate, but it's more for their own personal gain than anything else."

"That's sad," Molly muttered. "Isn't there anyone who will have your back just because they like you?"

Mycroft snorted. "Please."

Molly got a look of determination in her eye. "Well, I will."

Mycroft looked at her, startled. "What?"

"I'll be your friend. Meet me Friday night with a pizza. Any toppings will be fine. I'll provide an episode of Doctor Who for us to watch."

"What's the catch?"

Molly stood up. "No catch. It will be you, me, a pizza, and some Doctor Who, to talk about whatever we want. Get to know each other. Become _friends._" She stressed the last part as she started walking out. "Be there!"

Mycroft sat in his chair, stunned into submission. He didn't know where this was going to go, and he wasn't sure if he liked it. But Molly had piqued his interest, so he started up a search to find out what her favorite pizza topping was and how much Doctor Who she'd watched. He'd been a fan since he was a kid, he needed to know what episodes and Doctors he could talk about and what ones he couldn't. After all, he couldn't spoil anything to a fellow Whovian and potential future friend.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Yay, I've gotten two "official" meet-ups in only 3 chapters! Let's get this thing rolling, it'll be awesome! (Hopefully. =P)**

Molly had everything set up: pillows in just the right spot on her couch so that they were in arm's reach to use, but weren't forcing you to sit on them, several DVD's out on the table to choose which Doctor, companion, and creepy monster to watch, and Toby was deciding to behave for once and was sleeping out of sight. She wasn't sure why she felt so nervous about this, it was just a way for them to know each other a little better, have something to talk about. Just then the doorbell rang making her jump. She rushed over to answer it and found Mycroft holding a pizza exactly like a delivery boy. "I have an order for a veggie lover's pizza here for a Miss Molly Hooper," he said, clearly trying not to look pleased with himself.

"You found out my favorite pizza toppings? I said I was fine with whatever you brought!"

"Well I merely wanted to make sure you enjoyed this 'food' as much as you could. Besides," Mycroft got a glint in his eye. "Who says that I _don't _like my pizza this way?"

Molly sighed and let him in. "Most people would argue you don't eat pizza, period."

"I do, every once in a while when I'm in a rush. Where should I put this down?"

Molly rolled her eyes and smiled. "You figured out what pizza was my favorite, can't you deduce where my living room is?"

She watched him look around the entrance of her flat with some confusion. Then he realized he was walking on a carpet and just followed her footprints back to her living room. She heard him pick up the DVDs and she walked in, wondering exactly what he was doing. To her surprise, he was scrutinizing two of the DVDs like he was wondering which of them would be better. The pizza was on the table, forgotten entirely. Molly cleared her throat. Mycroft jumped and looked up at her, and it could have been her overactive imagination, but she could have sworn she saw a blush creep up his cheeks. "I-I just…you have…you have good taste when it comes to _Doctor Who_."

Molly smiled. "You watch it then?"

Mycroft nodded. "Ever since I was probably around 7 and had to find ways to entertain myself with Sherlock taking everyone's attention. I started watching around the middle of Tom Baker's run, I think."

"Well, I don't have a whole lot of DVDs that far back, except for Genesis of the Daleks and the Talons of Wheng-Chiang."

Mycroft dropped the cases he was holding in shock, and quickly scrambled to pick them up. Molly laughed. She never imagined Mycroft as a Doctor Who fan, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. A weird, backwards logic kind of sense, but still sense. She sat down on her sofa and picked up all the DVDs she'd had out. "Let's see…I'd recommend _Blink, The Empty Child, Silence in the Library, Midnight, _or _The Waters of Mars._"

Mycroft immediately responded. "Not _Midnight. _A little too soon, don't you think?"

Molly mentally face-palmed. Of course it was too soon after Sherlock experienced the same thing and they had to help him out of it. Why did she think it would be okay? "Well then, we have _Blink, The Empty Child, Silence in the Library, _and _The Waters of Mars._"

Mycroft sat next to Molly on the couch. "You choose."

Molly gave him a look. "No, you got _my _favorite kind of pizza, we're seeing an episode _you _choose."

Mycroft tucked his feet underneath him and refused to look at Molly. She gave him a light nudge. Did she do something wrong? "Hey, you all right?"

Mycroft nodded and mumbled something Molly couldn't make out.

"Sorry?"

"All of these episodes scare me."

Molly let out a loud laugh before realizing that probably wasn't the right reaction. She cut herself off and said, "Well, yeah. I wouldn't like them if they weren't terrifying!"

Mycroft looked over at her like she had just told him she was half duck. "What?"

Molly shrugged. "I like being scared every once in a while. Don't you?"

Mycroft shook his head. "No. Quite the opposite, really!"

Molly sighed. "Well, listen, if you don't choose one, I will."

Mycroft stared at her and said nothing.

"Fine. I'm putting in _The Waters of Mars._"

Mycroft screamed, "No, wait!" but Molly had already put in the DVD and was starting it up.

Molly sat back down on the couch and tried to not smile at how Mycroft had gone completely white. She picked up the pizza and took 2 slices. "Are you just going to sit there or are you going to eat something?"

Mycroft didn't answer, just slowly took a piece of pizza and ate it like it was his last meal before an execution. The Doctor Who theme music came on and both of them subconsciously finished faster, Mycroft burrowing his face in his knees and Molly pulling a blanket up to her chin. The episode started and both of them forgot the other was in the room, at least until the Doctor came onscreen, at which point Molly shook Mycroft saying, "There he is! There he is!" and Mycroft looked up cautiously. But as soon as the Flood started attacking Mycroft stole Molly's blanket and hid under it. Molly looked over at him and proceeded to tease him about it, but nothing would get him to look out from under the blanket for more than a minute.

When the episode finally ended, Molly ripped the blanket off of Mycroft, not that at that point he was going to argue, he needed to repair his pride. Molly offered the last slice of pizza to him, and he shook his head. "No, you can have it."

Molly looked at him skeptically. "You sure? You haven't eaten that much tonight…"

"I'm sure. I didn't have much of an appetite tonight."

"Well, okay then." Molly bit her lip. "Did the episode freak you out too much?"

Mycroft didn't say anything. Molly took that as a yes. "Sorry, I probably should have chosen a different episode…"

Mycroft glanced over at her and shook his head. "No, it's not your fault. I'm just…not used to scaring myself on purpose. It's strange."

"Good strange or bad strange?"

Mycroft just smiled enigmatically and checked the time. "I'm afraid I have to go. I have a meeting early tomorrow morning and if I want to have any chance of finishing the rest of my paperwork and still having enough sleep to function tomorrow, I have to leave now."

Molly felt a twinge of disappointment. "Oh, okay."

"But I do have some free time next Friday, if you're interested?"

Molly's hopes rose and she hoped her eagerness didn't show on her face. "Really? And you'd actually want to spend your Friday night with me?"

"Well, I can hardly tell if someone will be a long-lasting friend in one meeting, can I?"

Molly smiled. "Well, you can, but it's rare, so I guess a follow-up makes sense," she teased.

Mycroft stood up. "I'll see you next week, then."

"See you then," Molly said as Mycroft let himself out.

When he was gone, she laughed incredulously. She had somehow just made friends with Mycroft Holmes!


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Okay, I think we've about reached halfway with this fic (I did say I was going to try and keep it short!) and that means conflict happens! Woo-hoo! Well, woo-hoo for me at least, anyway, you guys are about to have to wade through conflict.**

Two years have passed since Sherlock jumped off the roof and Mycroft was sitting in his office, flipping his phone over in his hands and staring at a tumbler of whiskey contemplating his latest realization. He had met up with Molly almost every Friday to watch Doctor Who with her, and when he had a conflict, he took her to lunch, or dinner on another day. Sherlock had at first been a big topic of conversation, being something that they both had in common, but they slowly moved away from Sherlock to talk about Doctor Who every time, which usually led to at least one of them sharing an embarrassing story that related to an episode they were seeing. Lately they were talking about neither, sharing job horrors and how they were feeling emotionally and physically. And Mycroft realized he was in love with Molly since the very beginning.

At first the concept of her had caught his attention: someone he couldn't read perfectly, and had to work out the normal way. Then what she said wasn't analyzed in his head like it usually was; he stored it away in his memory where he could dissect later, but during the time she was talking he focused on the story itself, and took note of how she was feeling, reacting in the best way to try and get her to smile. All the times he was nervous about seeing her, he wanted to look good in her eyes. He was trying to impress her, which he hadn't done since his last attempt at getting a girlfriend.

He gulped down the whiskey and picked up his phone. Should he tell her? He wasn't sure. After all, she had said herself he was a really good friend to her not 3 weeks ago. Did he really want to risk ruining that?

…But everyone who saw them out together already saw them as a couple. It was hard to deny they had something going on between them, even if they didn't know it. Mycroft sighed and put down the phone. This wasn't a conversation to have on the phone. It required a talk in person. Now there was an idea. Call Molly to meet with her and ask her what she thought. Mycroft picked up the phone just as it buzzed a text from a number he hadn't seen in years: Sherlock's.

_About time to come back. Hit a bit of a bump in Serbia, but should be back within the month. Start clearing my name, will you? –SH_

Mycroft reread the message twice. He couldn't have waited a day to say something? Mycroft sighed and stood. Talking to Molly would have to wait. He walked out of his office and told Anthea to start leaking the evidence Mycroft had compiled over two years to prove Richard Brooke was a fake, and informed her he'd be going home to prepare to retrieve his brother. He dozed on the ride back to his house, and was a little confused when his front door was already unlocked. Then he remembered he gave Molly a key 2 months ago after she claimed to see someone following her for a few days and needed a place to stay. He never got the key back. When he walked in, Molly was sitting on the stairs, staring at the door. "Hey. You're late."

Mycroft could have kicked himself. "It's Friday, isn't it?"

Molly nodded. "Is it a bad time?"

"Sherlock just said he was coming back soon but had run into some trouble, meaning I have to go and extract him before he gets himself killed."

He saw concern in Molly's eyes and assumed she was scared for Sherlock. "He'll be back here in one piece, don't worry. It shouldn't be more than a few weeks."

Molly nodded but still seemed unsure. Mycroft smiled but was sure it didn't reach his eyes. "Don't worry," he repeated. "We can watch Doctor Who when I get back, if you want?"

Molly looked down and nodded. "I should probably go…" she was out of the house without another word.

Mycroft stared after her. Of course he would only be a stand-in for Sherlock to her, why would he be anything more? The way she'd do anything for him was evidence in itself of a deep affection that couldn't be shifted toward him no matter how hard he might try. During that meeting when he returned her purse years ago, she said she wouldn't give up her friends; that must be the same for affections. He quickly walked up the stairs and packed warm clothes for the trip. He may have to re-freeze his heart after this, but that didn't mean that the rest of him had to freeze as well.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Don't kill me yet, guys! We still have 3 chapters or so before the end!**

Mycroft found getting through the ranks of this so-called "secure" cell surprisingly easy after learning to read Molly. Getting to the room where Sherlock was being held and tortured was child's play, and getting him out only required memorizing the floor plan and finding the shortest route, all-in-all taking about 30 seconds. It was the plane ride back that was painful. When Sherlock wasn't sleeping he was staring at Mycroft the entire time, trying to read him and find out what had changed since he'd been gone. Mycroft was careful to keep his mask on, except when he fell asleep, because when he woke up Sherlock wasn't looking at him anymore, but had a knowing glint in his eyes. That didn't bode well with him. When Sherlock noticed Mycroft's eyes on him, he looked over and simply said, "Whoever she is, she'd better run for the hills before you get the chance to tell her." And that was the end of the conversation.

Mycroft glanced at his reflection, tweaking his Ice Man mask until it was the way it was 2 years ago before he knew the woman behind the name Doctor Molly Hooper. When they landed and Mycroft turned his phone on for the first time in 2 weeks, he saw over 15 messages and calls from Molly. He called her number as Sherlock was talking to Anthea, demanding he get his coat back. Molly answered on the first ring. "Mycroft! Why haven't you been answering my calls?!"

"My phone was off," he said simply. "I couldn't let anyone know who I was and what I was doing for 2 weeks. I'm back with Sherlock, you'll be glad to hear."

Molly sighed. "Oh, good. So, do you still want to see that Doctor Who tomorrow?"

Mycroft felt his heart ache. She was relieved Sherlock was back, he was sure she was just being nice. "N…no, sorry, I can't make it. I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do back at work for why I've used all of my vacation time at once, and why I couldn't be reached. It might take a while to clear up."

"Well, when you get freed up, call me and we can set up a new schedule, okay?"

"Fine. Have a good night," Mycroft hesitated. He wanted to say "Molly" but he couldn't let Sherlock know who he was talking to, and it would make it harder for Mycroft to drop her from his mind. "Just…have a good night."

He hung up, despite Molly's protests and questions. Sherlock arched an eyebrow, and Mycroft just gestured towards a waiting car. They had some talking to do, or rather, Mycroft had to explain how John had moved on in life with Sherlock gone.

This was going to be fun.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Um…not much to say up here, actually. Except…muahahahahaaaa! This is what you get when you request fics from a slightly psychotic writer!**

It had been a week since Mycroft had called Molly. Since then, he'd been ignoring all of her calls, saying he was in a meeting, or doing basically anything to make sure he didn't have to see her. He was hoping that if he gave it enough time, she'd finally stop feeling bad for him and go back to focusing on Sherlock. He was in the middle of a report when Anthea walked in with a sandwich and some water, slamming them on his desk so she'd get his attention. He looked to her hands and saw the food, turning slightly green. The last thing he wanted right now was food.

"Sir, you need to eat something."

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday, and to be honest I'm not sure if you actually ate then or just palmed pieces of the food until it was gone!"

Mycroft looked up at her annoyed. "The fact remains that I'm not hungry. If I feel inclined to eat, I will go out and get something. But right now I'm. Not. Hungry."

Anthea rolled her eyes. "By the time you feel hungry you'll be close to death at this rate. I know a broken heart when I see one, sir, and if you don't make sure you're okay, you'll be a hollow shell faster than the prime minister can accidentally offend ambassadors."

Mycroft stared at her, uncomprehending. "Broken…heart?"

"Yes, sir. A broken heart. Now please, eat something before there's nothing of you left to explain the concept to."

Mycroft didn't touch the food. "You're saying I have a broken heart. I've been informed by many that I don't even have a real heart, let alone one that can be broken."

"And yet here you are, wasting away behind a desk, trying to drown out your emotions in work."

"…I'm still not hungry."

"Mycroft."

Mycroft's head snapped up. Anthea never called him by his first name.

"If you'll let me say so, I've seen a lot of men in my day who are stupid, stubborn, and all around pig-headed, but you are by far the worst. You can't even tell that the woman you love really loves you back! She seemed disappointed or concerned before you left, right?"

Mycroft nodded mutely.

"That was concern for you, not for Sherlock! She was disappointed that she couldn't see _you _for a few weeks! And when she sounded relieved when you came back, she was glad that _you _were still alive! Now get over yourself and go talk to her!"

Mycroft tried to stand up but collapsed into his chair after his vision darkened.

"Okay, eat first, then go talk to her," Anthea revised her previous statement.

"You think?" Mycroft asked sarcastically.

* * *

><p>Molly was working in the morgue when Sherlock first spoke. "You know he likes you, right?"<p>

She gasped and whirled around to find Sherlock leaning in the doorframe. "Wh-Who likes me?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Mycroft. He likes you."

"Y-yeah, we were friends until you came back. Then he stopped returning my calls for some reason." Molly hugged herself. "I don't know why, and I feel sort of sad. He said he didn't have any friends, and then we were getting along so well, and we both laughed when anyone said we looked like a couple…but then he started to look sad for some reason when we did…oh."

"Yes. Oh. Is it really so hard to believe he might have an interest in you?"

Molly just stood there a while, taking in what this meant. "Well, yeah. None of the people I've ever really liked have had the same feelings. I mean…just look at how I was before you left."

"So…you like him back?"

Molly paused and the more she thought about her and Mycroft together, the more her smile grew.

Sherlock pulled her out of her thoughts by saying, "I'm taking that as a yes."

"So what do I do?"

Sherlock considered. "He'll never tell you on his own. If he's not answering your calls that means he sees me as a threat he can't compete with and wants to get you to forget about him, which clearly isn't going to happen considering you're still smiling from thinking about whether or not you like him. You're going to have to go to him and ensure that he knows you chose him."

"What, like now?"

"The longer you wait, the longer it will take to convince him."

Molly ran out without another word to Sherlock. She quickly called a taxi and went to Mycroft's office building, running past security checkpoints, much to everyone's protest. She found Mycroft sitting at his desk finishing off a sandwich. He looked up at her with surprise written all over his face. "This is the second time you've ran into my private space all flustered. What's the reason now?"

Molly was too out of breath to say anything. Mycroft stood up and walked closer. "Molly, what's wrong?"

As soon as he got close enough, she pulled him down into one of the best kisses she'd had in years. Mycroft pulled back initially in shock, but returned the kiss within seconds, and was trying to move to the door to shut it so no one would suspect anything. Molly moved him to the wall and he flailed with one hand until he grabbed the door by his fingers and gave it a hard shove to swing shut. Neither one of them had a broken or lonely heart after what followed.

**There's an epilogue after this, guys, don't stop following it quite yet!**


	7. Epilogue

**A/N: So…this is the epilogue. It turned out to be shorter than I expected, but that's okay, I think. And if any of you guys were disappointed with how I ended the last chapter, I don't write smut. Like, I don't want to, nor do I know how. So I'm sorry, I guess? I'm just not that kind of writer. But I do imply things here. Just read and you'll find out in a not-so-vague-ish way what happened.**

_2 months later…_

Everyone was sitting around Baker Street, going over all of the surprises in their lives lately. John kept on arguing that Sherlock coming back was the biggest shock, Lestrade kept muttering something about a best man's speech, and Mycroft kept glancing at Molly who had a small smile on her face like she knew what was going to happen.

Finally, when the heated arguing was dying down, Molly spoke. "Well, all of your surprises are good…but none of them were worthy of a spit-take, were they?"

"No…" Lestrade muttered.

"What, is yours?" John asked.

Molly smiled. "I can get Mycroft to do a spit-take with mine."

Mycroft glanced over at her, taking a big sip of tea, daring her to continue.

"You remember our really heated make-out session in your office that escalated? Well, our first one?"

John choked and Lestrade raised his eyebrows. Sherlock grinned, getting an idea of where this was going. Mycroft nodded, still in the dark.

"Well. I'm pregnant."

Mycroft spit out his tea and started hacking. John and Lestrade both sat there in silence, Lestrade eventually reaching into his wallet and handing John a 20. Sherlock just laughed. "Mummy's going to kill you, brother dear."

Mycroft just continued to cough while Molly sat next to him grinning from ear to ear. Mary walked into the flat saying, "John, if you're done I need you for a minute…" she looked at the scene around her. "What is it? What happened?"

Sherlock grinned. "Molly has been given a very special gift by Mycroft, apparently."

"Oh really? What?"

"A child."

Mary covered her mouth. "Oh, congratulations, Molly!"

Molly smiled and looked over at Mycroft, who had finally stopped coughing and was now sucking in air in big gulps like he was trying not to panic. "I mean, he might not look like it, but Mycroft actually seems like someone I could trust with a kid. If he's anywhere close to being as nice with them as he is with me…"

John gagged. "Molly, please stop."

Mary laughed. "You're having fun with this aren't you?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Well, why don't we talk for a while? I just saw this photo in a magazine that had the perfect nursery colors, if you're curious?"

Molly nodded and walked out of the room to talk with Mary and leave the guys to however they'd react when she left. Her and Mycroft. Heh. Who knew?

_~End~_

**A/N: That's all, folks! I'd like to give a big thank-you to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed. You guys are absolutely amazing, and the reason I keep writing these odd little stories. And to anyone who I converted to Mollcroft in the process of this story: MUAHAHAHAHA! ;)**

**You all are the best.**

**~shnuffeluv**


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